Gromet's PlazaTransformation Stories


by Lobo De la Sombra

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© Copyright 2011 - Lobo De la Sombra - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; F/m; hist; potion; transform; M2f; bond; rope; gag; seduce; captive; revenge; reluct/nc; X

"So you are the famous Craftsman."

"I am."

The man in the rough homespun laughed. "You don’t look like a master thief and assassin," he said genially. "Then again, I hardly resemble a noble of the court at the moment, do I?"

The man known as the Craftsman glanced around the room, noting the rough, hand-carved wood of the table and chairs. It was a small hut, plainly the dwelling of someone with little means. Shrugging, he glanced back toward his companion.

"Your appearance means little to me," he said softly, "so long as you can pay."

The other smiled. "Oh, have no fear on that account. On my honor, when this job is completed, you will never need worry about money again. Wine?"

At the other’s nod, he poured two glasses of a pale amber liquid. "From my private stock," he said, handing over one of the glasses. "I’m sure you’ll find it interesting."

With another shrug, the Craftsman sipped his drink. 'Not bad', he thought, taking a larger sip. 'Pretty good, actually'. Before he knew it, the glass was empty.

"My apologies," he said. "I don’t usually drink that quickly."

His companion smiled. "Completely understandable," he replied. "Many find the flavor of the wine irresistible. But why don’t you have a seat, and we’ll talk about the job."

Nodding, the Craftsman drew back a chair, then all but fell into it. 'Wine must be stronger than I’m used to', he thought, struggling to a more upright position, then turning eyes suddenly gone a bit fuzzy toward the other.

"What is this job?" he asked, his tongue feeling a bit thick.

"Quite simple, really," was the reply. "You are going to remove the king."

The seated man shook his head slowly. "I don’t do royals," he said, puzzled and more than a bit concerned by the numbness that seemed to be spreading across his body. "Kill a king, and they’ll be after you for the rest of your life."

The other smiled. "Two things," he said, "that you fail to consider. First, the king is somewhat less than popular with his people. He is a foreigner, a usurper. His taxes have nearly beggared the kingdom beyond hope of recovery. Our women are his whores, while our young men go to feed the appetites of his dark god. Only his mercenary army protects him from the wrath of his people. Anyone who managed to remove him would be a hero."

Through the numbness, the Craftsman could feel a kind of tugging sensation, as if parts of his body were being pulled in directions they were never meant to go. Worse, he found himself now unable to move, barely able to hold his head up.

"Second," the other continued, "it’s not like you really have a choice in the matter. Not if you want your body back."

The Craftsman finally lost the battle to hold his head erect. His chin drooped, coming to rest at the top of the cleft between a pair of large, firm breasts. Gazing helplessly at the rise in his shirt, he foggily realized those breasts now adorned his own chest. Stunned, he could only watch those breasts rise and fall with his own breathing.

"You see," he heard the other say, "the wine you drank has two very important properties. First, it deadens the body temporarily, which explains the numbness and the inability to move. That property will help you complete your job, actually".

"Second, the wine changes you, as I believe you’ve already seen. Once the deadening wears off, you will be able to examine the extent of that change. I do believe it will amaze you."

For long moments, silence reigned. Then, slowly, the Craftsman began to regain feeling in his body. His arms and legs began to twitch. The twitching became small movements. Finally, his head rose slowly.

"What have you done to me?" he asked, surprised by the soft, husky tone of his voice.

"I believe you already know," came the reply, "but I doubt you will believe it until you have seen for yourself."

Still smiling, the other man stepped forward, grasping the Craftsman’s shirt and pulling upward. Still barely able to move, the seated man was unable to resist as his shirt was pulled from his body. Kneeling, the other unlaced, then removed his boots. He then produced a knife, which he used to cut up along the outside of each leg of the Craftsman’s breeches. A strong pull yanked the remains of the ruined cloth from his body. Smiling, the other rose and stepped back.

"There," he said, "that should help you examine your new body." His smiled turned briefly cold. "And it is a body I might not mind examining as well, were there time."

The Craftsman’s arms dangled loosely at his sides. Slowly, he brought them up, finally dropping his hands into his lap. What he felt made him lean forward sharply, nearly losing his balance. Stunned, he could only stare.

Hanging from his chest were a pair of large, firm breasts with prominent nipples. Gazing between them, he stared into his lap. There, instead of the manhood he’d grown to maturity with, a softly furred mound now capped the juncture of firm, shapely thighs. Hesitantly, he extended one finger, feeling the soft lips beneath the fur. Slowly, his head raised again.


"Two reasons," came the reply. "First, only a woman could hope to get close enough to the king for my plan to work. Second, I know you will bring all your skills to bear to get the job done. Only if you succeed will I provide the antidote. It’s not here, by the way, and only I know where it can be found. You could try to beat the information out of me, but I doubt your new body would prove up to that task." The man grinned. "Though I would not mind in the least were you to try I believe I would very much enjoy subduing that body."

Shakily, the Craftsman rose to his feet. Glancing down, his eyes verified what he already knew. From a slim, slightly muscular man, he had become a slender, lushly curved woman. His hands rose to his face, feeling high cheekbones and full lips. Without a word, the other handed him a small mirror, allowing him to see a face of surpassing loveliness, framed by waving auburn hair and dominated by large, liquid blue eyes. Lowering the mirror, he turned those eyes toward his companion.

"It seems," he said, "that I have no choice. How am I to complete this job?"

The other smiled. "Excellent," he said. "I knew your mind was resilient enough to cope with the changes." Still smiling, he reached up and softly pinched one nipple. The Craftsman felt his knees threaten to collapse. The strength of the feeling that washed through him from that simple pinch astonished him. Shakily, he regained his balance, watching as the other stepped back.

"So tempting," the man whispered, "but you must remain unspoiled for the king." For a moment, he continued to eye the woman who stood naked before him, then turned away.

"You will find appropriate clothing in the next room," he said, his voice hard. "You will also find a bottle of the same wine you just drank. You will dress, place the bottle in the pack you will also find there, then make your way to the palace.

"The king is notorious for his lustful ways. Once he sees you, he will no doubt have to have you. You will accommodate his wishes as much as you have to in order to lure him from the palace alone. Once outside and alone, you will give him the wine".

"The wine will have the same effect on him that it has on you. He will become helpless, even as he changes. You will complete that helplessness by thoroughly binding and gagging him. You will then report to my agent, who will be waiting for you near the city gate. The agent will arrange to have you brought back here. Once here, the king will begin his, or should I say her, new life. And you shall receive your reward."

The man turned back to gaze steadily into blue eyes. "You could," he continued, "go to the king and tell him of my plan, tell him what has been done to you. I doubt he would care. Indeed, even if he did believe you, he would most likely find your situation perfect for his own desires. You could very well find yourself his personal slave, fated to never leave his chambers again."

The man smiled. "Oh, I almost forgot. Your new name is Selene. I suggest you become accustomed to it. Depending on how long it takes you to complete your mission, you may be wearing it, and that body, for some time."

* * * *

Driven by habit, the Craftsman slipped quietly into the city near dusk, holding the stolen cloak wrapped tight around his nearly naked body. Keeping to the shadows, he made his way to a nearly deserted stable, slipping inside and climbing quietly into the loft.

It had taken nearly a full day to reach the city, and not only because of the distance and the need for secrecy. His new body moved in ways he had never experienced before. Simply walking took a great deal of getting used to. His normally bold, proud stride had become a gliding, sensuous sway. With each step, he could feel the cheeks of his ass bunching, rising, then falling, leaving no doubt as to the pleasant view they would be granted anyone watching from behind him. Each step also caused his new breasts to sway, nipples rubbing against the cloth that covered them, sending sensations through his new body that nearly made his knees buckle.

Cursing softly, he let the cloak fall. Beneath, he wore only a short skirt, barely enough to cover his upper thighs, and a flimsy lace top that barely covered his nipples. His slim, pinched waist was exposed between the two tiny pieces of cloth. Even in his anger, he had to admit that the other had done an excellent job. With this body, wearing these clothes, no man would be able to resist him.

Shaking his head, he spread the cloak over the straw covering the floor, then lay down atop it. 'Sleep', he thought. 'Tomorrow, he would make his way to the palace'.

Sleep, however, was hard to come by. Even laying flat, his breathing caused his nipples to rub across the material of his top, sending waves of pleasure radiating through him. Slowly, his right hand rose, cupping one firm globe, then gently pinching and kneading on the rapidly hardening nipple. Closing his eyes, he bit his lip softly to contain the moan of pleasure that threatened to escape.

Suddenly, his entire body jerked. As if of its own will, his left hand had found its way beneath his skirt, gently stroking the furred mound beneath. Even as his mind registered the gathering moisture between his thighs, his finger pressed down, slipping easily inside. For a moment, he froze, his mind struggling to comprehend the feelings sweeping through him. Then, with a moan, his finger plunged deep, burying itself, before beginning a steady stroking motion.

For long moments, he lay still, only his hands moving. Gradually, his body began to writhe in place atop the cloak. The writing grew in intensity until, suddenly, his body stiffened, a soft cry escaping his lips as his first female orgasm swept through him. For a moment, his hips bucked madly against his thrusting finger. Slowly, the motion faded, until he lay still, his finger still buried deep as his exhausted mind drifted into sleep.

* * * *

"This looks like a good spot, doesn’t it?"

King Roderick glanced around the small clearing. In truth, he cared little where they were. His thoughts were on the woman kneeling before him to spread a blanket on the soft ground, and on what he knew would happen on that blanket.

It had been nearly a week since the woman, Selene, had come to the palace, seeking a place on the staff. At first glance, he had known where her place would be. Since then, he had enjoyed her many times, her body’s incredible sensitivity bringing him no end of pleasure. He had quickly become besotted with her, and when she suggested a private picnic, he had quickly agreed, his mind filled with thoughts of taking her beneath the open sky.

As if reading his thoughts, the woman glanced at him and smiled. Gone were the clothes she had worn that first day. Roderick had quickly removed those clothes, forbidding her to ever cover that body again. She had been naked since that moment, and any who cast lustful eyes on her perfect body faced the king’s wrath, which was always fatal. She belonged to him, and nobody else would ever have her, even in their dreams.

"Isn’t it hot today?" The woman’s question shook the king from his thoughts. She rose and strode toward a hollow tree at the edge of the clearing, his eyes fastened on the sway of her ass. Reaching the tree, she bent forward at the waist, feet slightly spread, the sight bringing a groan to the king’s lips, even as he felt himself respond. When she straightened and turned back toward him, he barely noticed the bottle of amber liquid in her hand.

"Wine," she said, smiling. "Very special wine. I hid it here because I was afraid someone would steal it from me in the city. Would you like some?"

His mind filled with lust, Roderick merely nodded. Still smiling, Selene moved toward the picnic basket. "Why don’t you get comfortable while I pour," she said.

Feverishly, Roderick stripped away his clothing, eyes never leaving her body as she drew two glasses from the basket, filling both with the wine. When she handed him his glass, he gulped it down, then dropped the glass and threw his arms around her. Her own glass fell, spilling its contents, as she laughed within the circle of his arms.

For a moment, his hands roamed her body before cupping her firm ass and drawing her against him. Gradually, his movements slowed, until he stood motionless. His eyes, locked in a gaze with hers, widened.

"Not today, Your Majesty," she said softly, slipping from his loosening grasp. "Not ever again." Placing her hand on his chest, she pushed softly, watching as his limp body collapsed onto the blanket.

Silently, she watched as his body began to change. His legs became slender, with softly flaring thighs. His hips widened, rising slightly as his ass became much more rounded. His manhood shrank, vanishing beneath the softly furred mound that had appeared at the juncture of his thighs. His waist narrowed, his chest sprouting a pair of breasts that quickly grew to match the ones adorning the woman standing over him. His face changed, becoming a vision of beauty that made him seem almost a sister to the woman watching his change.

When the change was complete, the woman nodded. Kneeling, she softly pinched a nipple, smiling at the moan that slipped from the king’s firm, lush lips. Turning, she began pulling rope from the bottom of the basket, where it had been hidden beneath the food.

"I know," she said softly. "It feels strange, doesn’t it. But at the same time, it feels wonderful. You will be feeling things like that for a very long time, I’m afraid. As for me, I will never feel them again."

Rolling the king’s limp body onto its stomach, she drew the slack hands together at the small of his back, binding them securely in place. She then bound his ankles together. Drawing the king’s ankles up to his wrists, a third rope secured him into a strict hogtie. After checking her work, the woman rolled the king onto his side, pulling open his mouth and filling it with a folded napkin. A second napkin, tied around his face, held the first securely in place.

Rising, Selene glanced down at the helpless woman lying before her. Nodding her satisfaction, she turned away. It was time to meet the agent, turn over the king, and get her old body back.

* * * *

"You have done well." Rich silks and satins had replaced the rough homespun. "And in only a week. I am impressed."

"Then complete your side of the bargain. I’ve been in this body too long already. I’ve even begun thinking of myself as Selene."

"Have you no wish to learn what the king’s fate will be?"

"If it will get this done and my body back, go ahead."

The man smiled. "There is no king," he said. "There is only a beautiful woman, whose body exists only to give and receive pleasure." Kneeling beside the struggling woman, he slipped a hand between her thighs. Her body stiffened, and a low moan escaped from behind the gag. Still smiling, the man rose.

"You see," he said, moving to stand before Selene, "her body is so sensitive, she cannot resist the pleasure created by the slightest touch. As you cannot."

As the man spoke, his hand slipped between Selene’s thighs, stroking softly. Any thought of resisting vanished at the wave of pleasure sweeping through her. Vaguely, she felt her arms being drawn behind her. The man stepped away. As her reeling senses began to calm, she discovered her wrists securely bound behind her. Her ankles had been bound as well, leaving her to stand helpless.

"What is this? We had a deal."

The man nodded. "We did indeed. You bring me the king, and I make sure you never need worry about money again. Unfortunately, there is one detail I neglected to mention".

"Just over a year ago," the man continued, "my wife was killed. Assassinated, actually, by order of the king. It seems that, not only had she publicly refused his advances, she also had the nerve to slap him. Of course, such behavior could not be allowed to go unpunished, and so the king hired an assassin to remove her".

"It took months to find the identity of the assassin, more months to find a sorcerer who could supply me the means for my revenge. But now the long wait is over."

The man smiled coldly. "You, of course, were the assassin. With your help, the king stole from me the woman I loved. I know I will never get her back, but now I have something else. Two new slaves, beautiful women who will respond to my every touch. The king is gone, and the Craftsman will kill no more women. Once I have helped place a suitably malleable king on the throne, I shall devote the rest of my life to taking pleasure from both of you. You cannot restore my love, but what your bodies can give, they will. Often, I assure you."

Selene’s protests were muffled by the cloth the man behind her stuffed into her open mouth. A second cloth knotted around her face held the gag secure. Stepping away, the man stooped, lifting the king’s helplessly writhing body to his shoulder. Smiling, he placed a hand between her thighs, her body stiffening as he carried her from the room. Alone with her captor, Selene could only struggle helplessly against her bonds, even as her mind struggled with the knowledge that, no longer a master assassin, she had now become the perfect love slave. It was, she knew, a strangely fitting punishment for the life she had led. Her head drooped, her eyes closed, and a single tear coursed down her soft cheek.



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